To my children
I have somewhat negative memory of the diary. One of the early Christmas gifts I remember is a diary. It was around the time I learned how to read and write. My parents gave me a diary for Christmas. For a child, it was not a gift. It haunted me for sometime after that.
A few weeks after Christmas, my dad asked me to bring my new diary to him. And I got into a trouble. I did not write anything on it. A few weeks later, I got scolded again, even though I kept a diary. I wrote the same things over and over.
“I woke up in the morning. I had my breakfast. I fought with my brother. I washed and went to bed.” These are the entries I wrote on my diary. My parents continued to buy me diary for Christmas few more years. I don’t remember what I wrote on them.
My niece and nephew came from Korea to live with us. As a tool to study English, I made them keeping the diaries. First few weeks, I asked them to write two sentences. Then added additional sentence each week to five sentences. I was surprised to find what they wrote were very similar to what I used to write on mine.
“It was hot. I ate…It was delicious. I went to…” They switched the sentences around, but basically, they were the same every day. Knowing someone is checking your diary, you won’t write any thing private and meaningful. They do not keep it anymore now.
I heard an interview of a writer. It takes one to four years for a write to write a long story. Sometimes, it takes longer than four years to complete it. While writing a long story, the writer falls into the world of the story. Once she finishes her story, she hardly remembers anything other than the story itself. So, she keeps her diary to remember and retrieve the time she lost.
I don’t remember much about the past I have lived thru. I am sure there were sad times, pleasant events, and things I would like to keep and cherish. I am afraid the time ate up my memories.
I had acupuncture and moxibustion treatment for many years when I was still young. I had scars from them. I had burn scars on my low back, hip, and leg underneath the knee caps. Scars from the hundreds of acupuncture needles were formed on my foot. I remember I still had them in my late thirties. Several years ago, I was drying after the shower and found they were all gone. I thought they would never go away. Such deep scars were erased over time.
As you get older, it takes more time to form new memories. Also, I notice things around me are disappearing. People I remember are disappearing and they don’t play the songs I used to listen on the radio. The memories related to them are disappearing, too. So, I decided to keep a diary. I don’t write it every day. I write it when there are things I want to keep the record of. They could be events, thoughts, or feelings.
I read the following in a poem. “In my twenties, I thought something major would happen once I became thirty. In my thirties, the world would stop once I became forty. Now I am in forties and realize how good my thirties were. I wonder why I did not know it then.”
Today is the youngest day of my remaining days. And I keep a diary not to forget about this precious time.